


woke up this morning with love in mind

by 24Carrots



Category: Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Did I mention he GOES to the GYM?, He GOES to the GYM, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22433437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/24Carrots/pseuds/24Carrots
Summary: Dan has complicated feelings about how his relationship with Noah is progressing since he moved to L.A., and very uncomplicated feelings about Noah's new gym habit.
Relationships: Dan Levy/Noah Reid
Comments: 43
Kudos: 96





	woke up this morning with love in mind

**Author's Note:**

> Please use the back button if you are bothered by purely fictional stories, feelings, CrossFit-inspired sex, or any combination of the above.
> 
> I was really only planning to write a little ficlet every couple weeks to practice and get better at writing. Then Noah went to the gym and there were videos on Instagram and this happened. This is my first time writing smut for this pairing so please be kind.
> 
> Title is from Neil Young's Love in Mind. Noah covered the song awhile back and I think you can still see it [here](https://www.facebook.com/TheDakotaTavern/videos/1219809344889795/). It starts at 1:38:20.

Dan hasn't been here in awhile.

Noah’s place is homey, with white walls and worn wood floors and comfortable furniture pointing partially at the grand piano and partially at the big TV, suitable for both types of gatherings he likes to host. Large windows let in the natural light for a sprawling collection of hard-to-kill houseplants. His guitars are hung on the wall near the piano—the guitar he’s always had, and the one Dan got him as a wrap gift when they finished filming. The other walls are decorated with pictures. His friends, his family, his life. Dan is there too, photos of them together tucked in among the others, although Dan is still not quite sure how he fits. If Noah thinks he fits.

“Thanks for bringing the wine,” Noah says, returning from the kitchen with two glasses.

“Thanks for offering to cook.” His voice is a little too high, too nervous, and Noah hears it, setting the glass on the shelf next to the piano instead of offering it to Dan.

“C’mere,” Noah says, but he’s the one who comes. His hands rub soothing circles on Dan’s back as he folds himself around him and holds on, firm and warm. Noah can’t know what he’s been thinking about, but still he holds Dan close until Dan doesn’t question how he fits here anymore. Noah’s breath is hot against Dan’s neck, and Dan wants him to kiss his favorite spot. But it takes longer to overcome the distance now that Dan lives in L.A. full time.

They stand there, sinking into each other, until finally, finally, Dan feels that familiar press of lips against the skin below his ear, lingering with a flick of tongue so Dan feels it even when Noah moves to the corner of his jaw and the soft plane of his cheek and the corner of his mouth and then against his lips and against his lips again. Dan wants to keep kissing him until they’re breathless and senseless, to use up whatever time is left until dinner is ready, maybe forget dinner all together since they’re so short on time, but Noah just returns to nuzzling his neck and holding him tight in his arms. Because it takes longer now, to overcome the distance.

Dan doesn’t mind, really. He loves this too, just being held until their breaths and hearts sync up again. He doesn’t get this when he hooks up with other people. Or he wouldn’t get this if he actually _was_ hooking up with other people. Now that they decided that is a thing they are free to do. Now that Dan lives far away.

The oven timer dings from the small kitchen off the living room and Noah groans into Dan’s shoulder, squeezing tighter before he lets go.

“If I would have known I only had you for one night I would have made protein shakes or acquired some kind of magic meal-replacement pill,” he grumbles. Dan laughs a little and clasps his hands around Noah’s face, kissing his forehead and then his lips again, and even this, just holding the person he’s missed holding, is making him a little breathless and senseless.

“I really wanted to stay longer,” he says.

“I know.” Noah takes Dan’s hands in his own to free himself, and Dan sort of wishes he would argue. Wishes he would give him shit for turning a one week trip into a one night trip at the last minute. But he doesn’t, because this is what this is now. A thing they do when it works out in their plans. Not a thing they plan around.

Now that their plans are always taking them in opposite directions, they see each other less and less. And Dan wonders—worries—that after the string of awards shows and press appearances this spring, after season six finishes airing, they’ll stop factoring each other into their plans entirely. He doesn’t want that but…Noah hates L.A. He wrote a whole fucking song about it.

Dan follows Noah to the kitchen and watches as he removes the chicken breasts from the skillet and sets them aside. He minces garlic, which is a nice reminder of how quick and capable his hands are, and scrapes it off the cutting board with the knife to deposit it into the pan. He adds a few cherry tomatoes he already halved and stirs until the whole kitchen smells like Italy.

“What are you making?” Dan asks, pressing against him from behind and hooking his chin over Noah’s shoulder. He feels good. Solid. Here.

“Tuscan chicken. Got the recipe from the chef at the villa last summer.”

“Oh,” Dan says, taken aback. “I—”

“You said it was your favorite thing we ate there and I figured…I dunno. Maybe I’d learn how to make it for you.”

“Noah.” Dan doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know where to start with this very seriously casual situation they have. So Dan wraps his arms around Noah from behind as he adds a few handfuls of spinach and stirs the vegetables in the pan and whispers a quiet, “Thank you,” into the curve of his shoulder.

Noah keeps adding things to the skillet and stirring and as he does, Dan scratches along his back and makes firm circles along his shoulders and Noah moans and leans into it, even more than he usually does. He feels different, Dan thinks. Not quite as soft. Like he’s tense or…

“Have you been working out?” Dan asks.

“I told you I joined a gym.”

“Yeah. I guess I assumed like…running. Or spin. Your shoulders feel…are you like benching or something?”

“It’s kind of a CrossFit hybrid. Weight lifting and—”

“CrossFit is the thing with the tires?” Dan asks.

“Yeah. There’s some of that.”

“How did I not know this?” Dan asks, and this time he does feel Noah tense, because the answer to that is obvious.

“I didn’t know you were interested,” Noah says, which isn’t quite what he means, and shrugs his shoulders which are…really quite nice, now that Dan is paying closer attention.

“Is this for a role or, or…” Dan isn’t sure what to ask.

“No. It’s for me. I miss acting but I don’t know what I want to do next really and the tour prep doesn’t take up that much time and I—It’s for me.” Noah shrugs again as he returns the chicken to the skillet. The hiss of the meat in the pan is almost too loud to hear what he says next. “It could be for you, too.”

“For me?” Dan asks, hating how it sounds, small and surprised. But it takes longer now, to overcome the distance.

“I flipped a 250-pound tire end-over-end last week." He stops stirring and looks up at Dan, eyes deep brown with flecks of mischievous gold. "How much to do you weigh, Daniel?” He lets his eyes rove over Dan for a minute and then returns to prepping the meal, setting a timer on his phone with one hand as the other covers the skillet with a lid.

“That’s n-none of your business,” Dan musters, but it’s impossible to hide his answering grin because fuck. Noah knows what he does to Dan, and he never stops finding new ways to do it.

Noah just laughs in response and murmurs something vaguely promising into a kiss. He tastes like wine and Dan chases the flavor of it around his mouth with his tongue, the warm subtle notes of the here and now, of someone he will never stop wanting, even if he can only have him for the night. They find each other again like that, slow and easy, hands and mouths connecting and giving, giving, giving as the familiar sensations settle around the new, the forgotten, the rediscovered.

Noah drops the spatula somewhere in the vicinity of the spoon rest and pushes Dan back against the counter, nipping at his lower lip as he does it, and Dan feels the last of the awkward tension drain as the anticipation thrums between them. Noah always moves like he’s bigger than he is. They’ve had fun with that over the last year, finding ways to play with their sizes, their strengths. But in practice, there are some things that don’t work. Or haven’t. And Dan wonders if—

The timer goes off before Dan can give shape to the thought.

“Time to eat,” Noah says, squeezing Dan’s hip with a final, playful kiss.

This is a plan, Dan realizes, halfway through a meal that tastes just like Tuscany. They have one night, so Noah’s going to flood his sensations with all of their best memories and then try to wreck him until the new memories are seared just as vividly, the tastes and textures and colors of this night swirled up in the feeling of home he only gets with Noah, no matter where they are.

There’s love here too, beneath this feeling of home. They don’t say it as much anymore, and almost never in person, because it hurts. Because these days, it feels too much like goodbye. But it’s still love. Sometimes, like now, it feels stronger than ever.

Dan tries to ask new questions for the rest of the meal, tries to focus on more than work. This part is important too, he knows, if he wants to be considered when Noah makes plans.

“So tell me about this gym. I was picturing like treadmills and spin bikes.” Noah laughs at that and sits back in his chair, drinking the last sip of his wine.

“Well. A lot of the workouts are body-weight exercises—pull-ups and bench dips and box jumps. That kind of thing. Using your own body to hone balance and agility.” Noah looks up at Dan from his wine glass, which he’s still turning in his hand, and Dan thinks based on the glint in his eye that this is probably supposed to sound exactly as hot as it does. “I do a kettle-bell pull that makes pulsing squats feel easy. That one uses a rope. There are a lot of ropes, too.” Noah bites his lip with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. Dan loves when he gets like this. Pushy and cocky and confident.

“And flipping tires,” Dan says, taking a sip of his own wine to counter the dryness in his mouth.

“And flipping tires. My favorite is this move where you hit a tire with a sledgehammer.”

“Oh wow,” Dan says. Noah just grins and sets the glass down and takes their empty plates.

“Yeah,” he says, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen. “I mean things feel kind of out of my control lately. Sometimes it’s nice just to pound into something sturdy like that.”

It takes Dan a minute to find the connection to his legs and force himself to stand. Then he gathers everything else from the table he can carry and follows Noah into the kitchen. If he helps, they can clean up quickly. They can always talk on the phone. They can’t do—well they can, but the phone is not a great substitute for other things they prefer to do in person. And it doesn’t take much talking to communicate what’s next.

When they finish loading the dishwasher, Noah closes around him again and breathes into the tender skin below Dan's ear. “Did you get enough to eat?” 

“Mmm,” Dan says. “Are you planning to feed me something else?”

“Maybe later.” Noah laughs, and Dan closes his eyes against the feel of Noah’s teeth scraping along the skin near the collar of his sweater. “Wanna come inside you first though. That okay?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, although he’s a little surprised. Of all the things they do together, Noah loves Dan in his ass the most. When they are tight on time he always wants that first. Like he craves it, the undeniable there-ness of Dan stretching him and filling him. Dan loves giving it to him, loves the deep satisfaction that comes with undoing his snark one long thrust at a time until he’s grabbing at the sheets and crying Dan’s name, until he can’t manage even that. Like Dan, Noah’s brain is hard to turn off, and Dan loves looking for new switches while he’s buried inside him.

So Dan pushes back a little, resists the gentle nudges he’s getting, just to see if he can get Noah to wrestle him to the bed. Noah pushes harder at first and then he laughs, and Dan feels the shudder from his lips down to his groin, Noah’s body shaking against his with laughter, with need. Noah accepts the challenge though, except instead of pushing him towards bed he hoists him onto the counter. It’s not a graceful movement but it’s full of so much raw power that Dan feels it all the way into his cuticles. Has he been living in this gym?

Dan is several inches out of alignment with Noah’s mouth now, but it hardly matters. Noah drags Dan’s sweater and undershirt off together and busies himself with the skin that’s easiest to reach. It would be easy to blame the time and the distance for how this feels, how _good_ this feels, having someone who’s never been afraid to be honest with him, laying that honesty over every inch he can access. Noah is laying his love and his affection and his desire and his lust and everything he’s missed and wanted and hoped for into Dan’s body now. Dan soaks it up. He doesn't ever get enough; he has to hold on to as much as he can.

“Fuck, fuck, not here,” Noah growls. He _growls_ and Dan stifles a laugh which makes him growl again. “Bed.”

Noah’s face is so stern but it’s also Noah’s face, which can never not be soft and fond under whatever else it’s doing. Dan wonders if he can get the growl again. He hauls Noah’s mouth up to his. And yes, he can.

Noah grips his hands under Dan’s hips and lifts again. Dan clings reflexively and then he’s being carried. He’s being fucking carried until Noah backs him up against the nearest wall. They crash into it with muffled grunts and laughter. Noah’s hands are still under his ass doing the best they can over Dan’s jeans, and Dan is sandwiched between the wall and Noah and soon he’s not laughing anymore. The laughter dissipates into muffled gasps as they work to remind each other of what this is, as Dan revels in how good it feels to need to touch Noah and for once to have him there right where he needs him, right under his hands, right up against his heart.

“Take me to bed, Noah” Dan says. He feels the answering hum against his mouth. For a minute he thinks Noah’s going to carry him all the way there, which…god that would be—but Noah sets him down after a few steps, mumbling something about conserving his energy.

Somehow they get the rest of their clothes off. It takes some undignified wriggling but Dan will take a hit to his dignity if it means he doesn’t have to stop touching Noah. Noah nudges Dan onto the bed and lies naked on his side facing him. He tugs his hand through Dan's hair as he kisses him, languid and full-bodied like the wine, like he can slow time down this way, like he can make the night stretch on into forever. Dan wishes he could.

Noah's hands fire Dan up from the top down, lazy touches turning more demanding, until he runs a hand over Dan's hip and down his leg, hitching it over his own as he kisses him, both of them soaking in this feeling of being skin-to-skin at last. Noah starts with one lubed finger up his ass and it’s not enough, Dan needs to be touching him everywhere he can, so he slides his own finger in alongside it. Noah’s eyes flick up at him and he grins and kisses him, tongue hot and slick as they work Dan open and hard together. Dan can feel Noah’s dick hard against his own between them and he really doesn't know how he survives without having this whenever he needs it.

“More,” Dan groans into his mouth and Dan removes his finger so Noah can use three of his own to take Dan closer to the edge, curving against the spot that makes Dan buck up against him. Dan is dangerously close to coming, immersed in Noah while Noah is immersed in him, when Noah pulls out and rolls them, flipping Dan onto his back like he’s half the size he is. Dan reaches for his ass to hold him so he can grind against him, seeking friction that tells his body this is real, real, real after too many weeks of being forced to use his imagination.

Dan doesn’t always like to be pushed around. He has to be in the headspace for it. He’s definitely in that headspace now. He wanted Noah to fight with him earlier and this isn’t…they’re not fighting. But they’re putting pressure on each other tonight in ways they don’t normally. Maybe now that they don’t see each other as much as they need to, they’re both getting a little bossy, a little pushy, demanding things from each other in bed in lieu of the demands they would like to make: “Come to L.A.” “Move back to Toronto.” Or less specifically, in the face of a dull morning and a return flight, a soft and simple, “Stay.”

Dan’s hands start scrambling and grabbing like he can somehow communicate that’s enough, he’s ready, he wants it, he needs Noah now. And he must be saying some of that out loud because Noah laughs and murmurs, “Okay, okay, okay,” and lubes himself up.

Dan expects him to fuck him into the mattress, but instead he hooks his arms under Dan’s knees and does another grabbing lift and Dan is back against the solid wood headboard with a grunt and a deliciously undignified thump. Noah registers Dan’s surprise and holds him still, spread open in his arms, his cock teasing his hole without quite pushing in.

“This okay?” he asks, kissing the ridge of Dan’s cheekbone so, so gently, and fuck. Yeah, this is okay.

“Fuck yeah,” Dan says.

Noah adjusts them until they fit together, filling Dan the way only he really does, filling the spaces around his heart and around his brain while he fills his body, fitting perfectly into the spaces where no one else has ever really fit. Noah holds him still at first, his arms cradling his thighs and his hands on his hips and then he’s moving, pushing in over and over and over and Dan feels suspended in time and space, the press of Noah against him holding him in the air at the same time Noah is the only thing holding him to the earth.

Noah pauses to take a breath and Dan runs his hands feather-light across his shoulders. “Jesus, your arms,” Dan breathes. Noah’s biceps are curved and bulging under the effort to hold Dan where he wants him. Dan has never really been into super built guys. And Noah’s not built exactly. But there’s enough definition for Dan to see what it takes for Noah to hold him, to see how hard he’s worked to hold Dan like this, to hold them like this. Noah is breathing hard and he relaxes his hold a bit, and Dan feels him drive even deeper inside him now that he’s letting gravity help.

“Fuck,” Noah groans, tipping his head forward onto Dan’s chest. “You’re so open for me, babe. I’m so—”

“Yeah,” Dan says, and then he rolls his hips as much as he can, pinned between Noah and the headboard, and Noah shudders against him.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Noah mutters. Dan thinks if he can—Yes, there. He stretches his arms across the broad top of the headboard which gives him more leverage to roll his hips again and Noah bites into his chest with Dan’s favorite long, low moan that sounds so much more visceral here and now than it does in his memory. It calls forth a second wind, though, because Noah’s fingers dig into the backs of Dan’s hips and he’s thrusting again, faster and louder. Maybe it takes longer to overcome the distance, but they’re working together now.

Dan’s legs ache and his hips ache and his arms ache and his ass feels raw and tender and he thinks maybe he’s never felt better, ever, not once, than he feels now as Noah comes with another moan, muffled into Dan’s chest, his knees and toes digging into the bed to keep them both from collapsing as he shudders through the aftershocks. Watching Noah surge against him with all this newfound force is almost enough to make him come too. It only takes a few strokes and he’s spurting hot between them.

Noah lowers him slowly back to the bed and rolls onto his back, sated and spent. Dan cleans them both up with the wipes Noah keeps in the nightstand and then lays next to him, pulling Noah half on top of so he can twist his fingers through his unruly curls.

“I can’t believe your hair just does this naturally,” he says, wrapping a ruddy brown curl around his index finger of one hand and scratching with the other along the hairline behind his head, fuzzy and past-due for a trim. He probably should have let Patrick grow these out, but he sort of likes that this is something that they only have as Dan and Noah.

“Mmm.” Noah’s eyes close as he leans into the gentle combing of Dan’s fingers.

The lamp is still on in the living room, sending a swath of warm light across Noah’s body through the open door. Dan tries to compare this view against all the angles he has memorized. Noah is still thick, but it’s different now, leaner and more defined. It will be four weeks before Noah comes to L.A. next. Dan wonders if he’ll look even more different then.

The thought sobers him, clearing away some of the fucked out static in his brain. Dan spends so much time away from the person he loves—the person he’s _in_ love with—that Noah's whole physique can change between visits. His hair can get longer and new lines can form in the corner of his eyes and he can turn into Thor, apparently. It feels like it happens overnight, but it doesn’t. It happens over days and weeks and maybe even months of being too far away and too busy to get closer. The ache of it settles in his heart, a reminder of what they have that’s very different from the ache crawling along his tired muscles.

He scissors Noah’s hair between his fingers and tugs. Noah cracks an eye and a smile and reaches a hand up to fumble around until it finds Dan’s forearm and squeezes.

“We’re kinda short on time. Wanna go again?” Noah asks.

“Yeah,” Dan whispers, which is true even though he’s going to need a minute and Noah looks like he might need a week. It’s still early and they can probably afford a nap and still get a couple more rounds in before Dan’s flight in the morning.

Dan nudges Noah onto his side so he can spoon him instead, and they drift off together, warm and spent.

They wake up a couple hours later and Dan fucks Noah’s thighs so they don’t have to change positions, kissing and biting into muscles along his shoulders as he comes. In the hazy early morning light, Dan sucks Noah off. If Dan takes his time working around the head and down the shaft and behind his balls, well. He’s fine admitting he doesn’t want to go. He _really_ doesn’t want to go. 

“Stay,” Noah whispers, pushing his hands through Dan's hair to tip his head back from where he collapsed last, nestled into the warm, soft skin above Noah's hip. It’s the first time he’s ever asked.

“I can’t,” Dan says, like an apology.

“I know,” Noah says. “I just needed to say it once, out loud, instead of just thinking it.”

“Yeah." The rain is coming down hard. It’s supposed to turn over to snow by the afternoon. He’ll touch down in L.A. to sunshine and he knows, already, from experience, that without Noah, it will take several days to feel its warmth. “You could come?” he asks. Noah's right. It feels better to say it instead of just thinking it. 

“Hmm,” Noah says with a low chuckle, weaving his fingers together with Dan’s and pulling him into the crook of his arm. They haven’t had this conversation in a long time, since Dan got the ABC deal and decided to sell his place in Toronto.

“What would I do if I came? Sit by the pool and wait for you to come home?”

“There's CrossFit in L.A. too. But if it's the pool you want, I'll buy you all the sunscreen.”

“Lucky me,” Noah says, but it doesn’t have the bite it used to have when they talked about this before. It almost sounds like he means it.

“You could work. When you’re ready. Theater or…I know you have offers for other projects.”

“How do you know I have offers?” Noah asks. He doesn’t deny it, which tells Dan he’s right.

“Because I’ve worked with you for four years and I know what you did for our show. For me. Of course you have offers.”

Noah is quiet for a long time, fingers tracing patterns in the hairs on Dan’s chest. Dan can hear his brain whirring away and it’s everything he can do to stop himself from asking what he’s thinking. He knows Noah will tell him when he’s ready.

“The last time I lived in L.A., I hated it. My family was back here, my friends. Everyone who was important to me. I was miserable.”

“I know,” Dan says.

Noah squeezes his hand hard, his fingers digging into Dan’s. “I know you do. But now…” Noah shifts so he can look at Dan. “Dan, that’s kind of how I feel here now, with you gone. Not that I don’t have people here but. Just. Not the person who means the most to me.”

Dan is afraid to ask the next question, but Noah is trying. So he can try too. "So what does this mean though, in practice?”

“I don’t know. I can’t quite picture it I guess, what that would look like. Me moving down there. At least part of the time. If you even—Do you still want that?”

“Very much.” Dan pushes it through the lump in his throat.

“So. Maybe between now and when I come visit next month, we could both think about that. What that might look like.”

“Yeah,” Dan nods. It's the first time they've made a plan for each other in months. It feels good. “Hey. I love you.”

Noah’s face spreads into a wide smile, because they almost never say that in person anymore. Because it usually feels too much like goodbye.

“I love you, too,” Noah says. And this time it feels nothing like goodbye.


End file.
